


A Good Mother

by Fisticuffs



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Pregnancy, post-Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fisticuffs/pseuds/Fisticuffs
Summary: She is his once more, bewitched under a stronger spell, augmented powers. Only this time, Kilgrave is not satisfied being alone together. He wants something more with Jessica. He wants more from her.





	1. The Devil Within

**Author's Note:**

> Really? No one else is gonna be the gross scum who writes Jessica pregnant while under Kilgrave’s control? No? Fine, I’ll do it. I like spoiling myself with the horridly unthinkable.
> 
> I debated when to set this, pre or post-series. I landed on post-series so I wouldn’t have my hands tied being completely unable to reference his parents. That would make this an AU where Kilgrave’s in-series augmentation did make him powerful enough to control Jessica once again in the finale. So she left with him and I’ll pick up around there.
> 
> Obvious non-con but the sex part happens offstage so I didn’t tag it as an official, bold print warning. This fic is mostly just various conversations

They left that night, sailing away while Trish and a few dozen strangers stood motionless on the dock, unable to move until Kilgrave’s effect wore off. They would be far, far away by then. Jessica hoped Trish would not do something foolish like call the coastguard and report her kidnapped. At the very least, Jessica would have to tell whoever showed up that she was there of her own free will. She was happy where she was, happy in the company of whom she was with. She would tell them that.

Jessica was controlled.

She was his again, a prospect against which she would rather die than accept. That was before Kilgrave laid out another option: Trish. Jessica would stay with him. Whether she had a choice in it or not, she would stay there. She would protect the only person who meant anything to her in this disgusting world. She would stand at Kilgrave’s elbow and speak whenever she could, urging him to choose the better when between two options.

“Getting a little chilly, isn’t it?”

Cool wind whipped around them as the yacht broke through water. They were so far from the bright city that it was a shining twinkle on the horizon. Waves were black around them. Above was a clear night sky and every star Jessica had not seen since living in New York.

“Yeah, it is.”

Celebratory drinks above deck sounded like a great idea unless the season was winter and the boat was moving through it.

Kilgrave rubbed her shoulder. “You want to go below and get some rest?”

Jessica swallowed. “No.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Yes,” she recanted, “I do. Yes.”

He stood and held out his hand. “Come on.” Jessica took it and he led them, arm in arm, around the deck and inside.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I actually am just _completely_  spent. No funny business tonight. Or I believe you call it ‘rape,’ isn’t that right?” He went through the narrow door first and Jessica followed. The master suite was grand and spacious, using every inch of available space.

“Yes.”

“I hate that word.”

Jessica hated everything it implied. She hated his touch.

“All right,” Kilgrave said as he removed his suit, “just get out of that ridiculous... flannel nightmare you’ve got on and lose the denim. Make yourself more comfortable.” He let her keep her underwear and tanktop. “I think we’ll dock somewhere tomorrow and go shopping.” He liked her in dresses. Stripped down to his underwear, Kilgrave clapped his hands together. “All right,“ he said, and he gestured at the bed, “get in.”

Jessica rolled back the plush comforter and got in bed. Kilgrave laid beside her. His arm came around her and made immobile skin crawl.

“Uh, just in case this has to be said outright,” Kilgrave ensured, “don’t kill me in my sleep, eh?” Jessica nodded. “That’s my girl.”

He turned off the lamp, and the room was diminished to what moonlight came through gaps in the blinds.

If Kilgrave was exhausted as he claimed, Jessica was wide awake. She could not sleep. There was too much on her mind. Even if she could manage it, there would be no rest. She remembered her time with him before, a never-ending kaleidoscope of nightmares, both awake and asleep, one seamlessly exchanged for the other. There was no sanctuary.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” Kilgrave murmured, and there was clear regret in his tone. “Eventually it won’t have to be. You’ll see.” He rolled onto his side so he could hold her. He kissed her and laid his head on the pillow. “Good night, Jessica. Go to sleep.”

Jessica went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, “The Devil Within“ by Digital Daggers is the perfect Kilgrave/Jessica song. Perfect!


	2. I Can't Say No (To You)

“Wake up.”

Jessica woke up. She opened her eyes.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds and made bars on the ceiling, a background to Kilgrave’s head as he loomed above her. His knees were astride Jessica’s hips and his hands pressed into the mattress beside her shoulders.

“Good morning, darling.” He kissed her. Jessica’s lack of participation was not appreciated.

“Reciprocate,” he ordered, “like you mean it.”

Jessica kissed him. She raised her hands from the bed and put them in his hair. She opened her mouth.

She hated him.

When Kilgrave pulled away, Jessica followed until he gave permission to stop. He laid on his back beside her.

“I missed you,” he said.

She knew.

“I’m so glad that little part of our relationship is behind us now,” he sighed with relief, “‘The Wrath.’ Good riddance, if you ask me.” That stage, freedom, was too brief by Jessica’s count. “I know you won’t believe me,” Kilgrave said as he turned onto his side to face her, “but it can be different this time. This time I actually love you. I can do better.”

“You can’t.”

He did not possess the instincts to do good. Kilgrave was a screaming child that never learned guilt or personal accountability. At least now Jessica knew why.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he scoffed, and for the next twenty-four hours at least, Jessica could not speak out against his intentions. “I’m willing to listen to you, Jessica. Remember when we went out and saved that family from their little hostage situation? That was fun, yeah? I can be a better man. I just need you to show me how.” He kissed her cheek. “Help me.” It was an order he did not intend to give.

“Let me go.”

Kilgrave groaned. “Oh, brother, here we go.”

“You want me to help you be good,” Jessica said. “You can’t do that if you’re keeping me here against my will.”

“Yeah, but you see,” he reasoned, “without your guidance, I’ll go off on my own and make the wrong decision over and over, won’t I?” It was true. “So let’s just go ahead and establish you’re not leaving. Got that?” Jessica closed her eyes, bit her lip, and nodded. “Good. Now we don’t have to talk that one into the ground. If it helps,” he offered, “you can tell yourself you’re doing it for the good of humanity. You make the sacrifice so they don’t have to. You stay and be my exquisite little shoulder angel and maybe no one else gets hurt.” If it were true, if it could be true, it was almost a life still worth living, something with meaning, however dismaying. “How’s that?” he asked. “Does that help any?”

Jessica nodded. It helped enough to register on a scale. It was better than nothing.

“See?” Kilgrave said with a smile. “Things are different already.” He brought his hand around her jaw and fingered her hair. “I think we can have an actual partnership this time. What we had before, that was courting. It was... It was dating, more or less. Now we’re ready for a real relationship. We can take bigger steps, make bigger commitments, things we never dreamed of before.”

Jessica was horrified to ask, “Like what?”

“Well,” Kilgrave exhaled through puffed out cheeks as he thought. And he thought. “Like... something I never considered the first time,” he said. “I’d thought about it, obviously, but that was our honeymoon period. I didn’t want to ruin it with company. No, I wanted you all to myself.”

“I don’t do threesomes,” Jessica muttered.

Kilgrave laughed. “God, I love that fire.” He patted her cheek and let his hand slink down to rest on her side. “But no, actually, I was thinking a little closer to home, a little... domesticity, perhaps.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Despite asking, she did not want to know. “Didn’t we already try the suburbs bullshit?”

“And that was going rather well until you drugged me,” he insisted. “I think... we should take the next step after that.” Kilgrave had such warped views of life and relationships, there was no telling what he meant.

“Again,” Jessica said, “what the hell are you talking about?”

Kilgrave rolled away from her and onto his back. “Honestly, it was little Hope who finally made me consider it,” he said. Jessica looked at him, trying to read his mind, knowing anything associated with Hope was a travesty. Kilgrave ruined that girl’s life in every way imaginable and unimaginable. “Abortion,” he spat. He hated the word. It crawled out of his mouth like a filthy little vermin, full of contempt and disgust.

Jessica’s heart skipped a beat. Her breath got stuck in her throat. Her stomach lurched. Before she could speak out and argue, Kilgrave put a finger over her lips.

“Shh.”

She could not talk.

“It’s just a thought,” he said. “No reason for you to go getting all bent out of shape.” Jessica knew better. Kilgrave did not give ideas a second thought. He stuck with his first instinct, convinced his every fleeting fancy was the right choice. “It’s unfortunate what happened. Yes, yes, all those little obligatory sentiments. I lost that child. But it made me more powerful and helped me get you back, so I can’t say it was a total loss, now can I?”

Jessica could not answer.

“You know, I really liked living together,” Kilgrave said. “Our darling little house in the suburbs. You’ve no idea how badly I wanted to make you join me in the master bedroom.” She knew. “We’re together now though. That’s all that matters.” His hand moved up her stomach and beneath her tanktop. Jessica shoved his arm away. “No,” Kilgrave told her, “none of that now.”

Jessica could not fight. She could not speak. She was paralyzed. She was helpless. Kilgrave’s hand kept moving up until it cupped her breast, squeezing the padded material of her bra.

“Speak,” he permitted.

“Stop,” Jessica immediately said. It was not an order. It was a quiet plea asking for mercy. Authority and threats melted away in that moment. She was scared and he liked her submissive anyway. “Please stop.” Her voice and body trembled.

Kilgrave moved his hand further up and stroked the side of her neck with his entire arm in her shirt and lying on her chest. “If I left it up to you,” he said, “I’d never have sex again— with you or anyone else.”

“Maybe not never,” Jessica lied. Her pulse beat against his fingertips.

“Oh, don’t insult me,” he said. “You just want to buy yourself time, make me grovel at your feet, wondering if today will be the day. Will today be the day? Will today be the day? Over and over and over. God.” He pulled out his hand. “Why put off the inevitable, Jessica?”

Kilgrave was impatient. He always would be, just like a child. He rolled over and began pulling off his underwear. “Now,” he said, “seeing as how you have _really_  talked my technique into the ground these past few weeks, I want you to tell me every way I can make you feel better.”

“You can start by not fucking touching me,” Jessica freely said, finding a spark of her fire again.

“I was thinking more along the lines of which buttons I should push,” he said. “Don’t worry.” Against her will, Jessica felt her mind climb down from that acute mental stress. Kilgrave climbed on top of her. “You want this.”

No, she did not. She abhorred his touch and his intentions with every cell in her body.

“I want this.”

Jessica got what she wanted.

When they finished, he called it practice, getting back into their routine. Or rather, it was getting to be better than their old song and dance. It was making sure they both got off, something he did not often bother with before.

Jessica did not want to think about it. She did not want to talk about it. She wanted to wrap herself around a bottle of hard liquor and recite stupid, useless street names.

“Give me your honest opinion.”

“Honestly, it’s probably the first time you’ve ever made a woman feel anything,” Jessica said as she caught her breath. She enjoyed attacking him in every way she could, stabbing with little pins.

“I have to admit,” he replied, “it _was_  sort of... fun, I suppose. I actually cared about what you wanted. Radical concept.”

“No,” Jessica stated, “just you catching up to the rest of humanity. Now get the fuck off me.”

“I make the orders here,” Kilgrave said. He waited above her for several long dragging seconds, until it looked like his own idea, before pushing off his hands to fall on his back in bed.

“Luke was better by the way,” Jessica said. “And I didn’t even have to lead him by the hand and tell him what to do like a damn virgin.”

“All right, enough,” Kilgrave dismissed.

“You wanted my honest opinion.”

“And if I wanted ad-libbing, I’d have asked for that too,” he muttered. “At least I’m trying here. Isn’t that enough?”

“You know full goddamn well it isn’t,” Jessica sneered. “Your touch... disgusts me through the surface of my skin and all the way down to the damn bone. And no matter how many times you tell me to like it, I will _never_ —”

“Stop,” he commanded. “No more honest bloody opinions.”

Jessica did not know the full breadth of that order. She feared if she tried to speak, it would only be in lies. She wisely said nothing.

“I think you’ll mellow out some once we’re in the family way,” Kilgrave speculated. “Not that we’re on our way just yet. No, I know you’re probably on ‘the pill’ or whatever,” he acknowledged. “We’ll have to wait for that to get out of your system first, won’t we?”

“I... want a goddamn brat with you,” Jessica lied through clenched teeth. No more honest opinions until tomorrow. She shut her mouth. She said nothing.

“Oh?” Kilgrave smirked. The only thing he enjoyed more than tormenting Jessica was pretending all his orders were redundant. He liked to pretend there was genuine truth behind her confessions. Jessica never acted outside of her desires. He simply made her honest. “That’s good to know then.” He deluded himself into thinking a part of them might actually be on the same page. “Come on.” Kilgrave got out of bed and held out his hand. “Let’s shower off and get some breakfast. I’m positively famished.”

“I would... not rather stay down here and starve,” Jessica lied again.

“Well, come on then.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Let’s start the day aboard our luxurious yacht. Fresh air, sunshine, all that shit that’s supposed to be good for you.”

She followed him into the bathroom and a cramped shower.


	3. Take Good Care of Yourself (You Belong to Me)

The flimsy nautical door made a hollow tap when knuckles beat upon it.

“Jessica.”

She retched loudly into the small toilet, but Kilgrave refused to show pity.

“You don’t get seasick and I know you’re not pregnant yet,” he said through the door. “Quit hiding and get out here.”

Jessica let go of the bowl she was clutching. She still needed it but she was forced to go where his words led her. The narrow door opened and Kilgrave saw how horrible she looked.

“Good god,” he said, “you’re even paler than usual. What were you doing in there?”

The sickness she felt had only one explanation she could guess at. “Got the shakes,” she said. Kilgrave let them have a glass of wine with dinner, but that was not enough. It fell miserably short of the supply Jessica infused herself with on a regular basis. The stress of withdrawal sweated from her pores.

“All right,” he allowed. “Just... finish up in there and go lay down or something.”

When Jessica exhausted herself with nausea, she retired to the bed. She was not alone. She was never alone anymore.

Kilgrave sat with his back against the headboard and patted her side of the bed. Jessica did not even care if he was there or not. She collapsed into the mattress with a groan.

She hated being sick.

Kilgrave took her trembling hand from the bed and demanded it when Jessica tried to pull away. Prick. He rubbed the back of her hand in a weak imitation of concern. He would never get sympathy right.

“God,” Jessica moaned and complained. She was weak and sick, and the rocking of their boat made everything worse.

“Honestly,” Kilgrave lectured, “if you hadn’t been drowning yourself this past year, you wouldn’t be going through withdrawals now. It’s your own damn fault.” He could not even fake sympathy for very long.

“I know there’s booze on this boat,” Jessica murmured. She needed something, anything.

“Oh yeah, loads of it,” he replied. “But you can’t have it later so why have it now?” He chuckled. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of making you shed all those unhealthy habits in the first place. This is great actually. Go ahead and get that shit out of your system.”

“Stop talking,” Jessica said. “That damn British accent is like nails on a chalkboard right now.” The implications behind his words helped her no better.

Kilgrave shimmied down the bed until he laid beside her. His thumb moved over the back of her hand in even strokes. Vile and empty gesture masqueraded as sentiment. “Jessica?”

“Yes, asshole?” She was not in the mood to play games with him.

“Do you know what you feel?”

“Death.”

Kilgrave chuckled. “No.” His voice turned quiet and calm. It whispered over her like a gentle breeze. “You feel your nausea receding. You’re imagining a glass of water spilling in reverse, pulling itself back into the cup until it becomes whole. Drop... by drop... by drop trickles back inside until that glass can be returned to its upright position.” It was such a soothing image. It was simple. It was effective. “You are as steady as a mountain,” he spoke on, “so stop quivering like a goddamn leaf.” Jessica’s hand shook in his until she could hold it better. From that grip, stability spread, calming Jessica’s body until it laid still. “And how’s your head?”

“Throbbing.” It felt like a hangover without the benefit of late night drinking or hair of the dog in the morning.

“No, it isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed, “I guess it isn’t.” Jessica felt the pressure and the pounding dissipate and disappear. After a moment, she could not remember if she had a headache to begin with or if she made it up. It was the tilted view of obscured reality Kilgrave always gave her.

“Fever,” he dismissed. “You’re not hot. It’s very cool in fact. Don’t you remember the chills your little arm got above deck last night? Hmm?”

“Yes.” To her own touch at least, Jessica’s skin was no longer hot. In fact, all her greatest symptoms faded away. She exhaled in relief.

“There,” Kilgrave said in ending. “That help any? Did it actually do anything or are you still... sick?” Sickness bothered and disgusted him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her withdrawal felt more like a nagging suggestion than physical illness.

“Well, if you don’t know, that’s good enough for me.” Kilgrave got out of bed. “It’s only temporary, of course.” It would last until his orders wore off. “We can do it again when it comes back. Not that I’ve actually done anything. You’re still going through nasty withdrawals. But at least your head doesn’t think you are.”

It was a consolation prize when all Jessica wanted was a generous helping of a stiff drink.

Kilgrave waited, but what he wanted would not come voluntarily. “Say thank you, darling.”

“Thank you, darling,” Jessica repeated. He never could leave something alone without destroying it. And then he dug his hole deeper.

“Just think,” Kilgrave said with a smirk, “with me in your corner, you won’t have to go through any of that messy morning sickness once you’re pregnant.” Jessica glared at him and opened her mouth. “Silence please.”

He left the room.

When Jessica got out of bed, she felt off balance. Signals to her brain were disrupted, trying to tell her everything was wrong when nothing was wrong. The experience was reminiscent of that lurching second after spinning around in circles, when the world was disorienting but nausea and dizziness had not yet set in.

Everything was wrong. Nothing was wrong. The Kilgrave effect.


	4. Break Me Shake Me

They lived the sea life for several weeks, only docking for the occasional supply or extravagant gift run. It was a small blessing in its own way. Kilgrave had no one to torment but Jessica and the small crew, and she made him leave them alone whenever she could. He was allowed to make them stay and work, but to everything else, she objected. He listened to her.

Night and day flashed back and forth, each with its signature cruelty. Under sun, they went through all the motions of being a couple: meals together, swimming, reading and television snuggled up on the couch. Under moon, they kept trying at his newest project, increasing the odds. Kilgrave slithered above her and inside her, giving, taking. It revolted Jessica, making her sick the entire time she moaned for it and encouraged him.

For weeks, they did that.

“Jessica dear, I have you a present!”

Every time he docked the boat to run around shopping or having fun, Jessica hoped he would not return. He always did.

“Take this,” Kilgrave instructed, “and _don’t_  look at it without me.”

Jessica took the paper bag from him. “What is it?”

“What do you think?” he scoffed. “Go on now.” He tapped her ass. “I’ll give you your privacy.” Kilgrave pushed her towards the bathroom and Jessica went inside.

“Of course,” she muttered when she opened the bag. He gave her a pregnancy test. “Damn it. God... damn it!” She hit the vanity with her fist and broke off the corner.

Jessica did not want to take a pregnancy test. She did not want a pregnancy.

“Take it,” Kilgrave repeated from outside, knowing she was biding her time with the task.

Jessica opened the box.

After a few minutes, Kilgrave turned anxious, impatient. “Jessica?” He knocked on the door. “What’s taking so long?”

“I can’t look at the test!” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to pee on a goddamn little stick you can’t look at? I don’t even know if I’m getting the right end.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he groaned. “You can look _at_  the test,” he clarified. “Just don’t look at the _result_  without me.”

That made the process easier— and less messy. “Wouldn’t kill you to be more specific,” she told him through the door.

“So I mess up sometimes,” he excused himself. “It’s bound to happen. You try watching every word you say.” He paused. “No, don’t... watch every word. You don’t have to do that.” He truly did slip on occasion. “Although it wouldn’t kill you to consider how your words can affect a man.”

“Go to hell!”

“Like those ones,” he exclaimed. “Are you done yet?”

“Stop talking to me and maybe I can pee.”

“All right.” Kilgrave walked away from the door. “I’ll be _way_  over here.”

When Jessica walked out, he was sitting on the foot of the bed. “Sit.” She joined him. “Did you read the instructions?” he asked. “How long do we wait?”

“A minute.”

“God, I’m anxious.” His feet tapped on the floor and his ass bounced on the bed. “Positive, negative, baby, no baby. Gah, I bet all parents get this way while they wait.” Kilgrave was a giddy jumble of nerves. Jessica was anxious for a different reason. “But don’t worry, darling.” He rubbed her back in a reassuring gesture. “If it’s not positive,” he nodded his head to the side, “well, we’ll just keep trying, won’t we?”

Jessica pushed his hand away. “God, you know I don’t want this. You miserable little prick.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Damn it, I do.”

Did she? No, she was fairly certain she did not, but she had trouble summoning past negativity. After all, it was a good time for a baby. Her life with Kilgrave was so calm and free from the stress of the city, free from its bills and its evils. Jessica was with a man who loved her, and surely if Kilgrave wanted her and wanted a child so desperately, he would be a good father. He would be a devoted father, a loving father. They were ready. It was a good time to start a family, the perfect time. How could Jessica not want a child with Kilgrave? She did. Of course she did. She wanted it.

“Can we look now?” she asked with bubbling excitement. She wanted to look. She needed to look.

Kilgrave pushed her hair behind her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Of course, darling. Turn it over.”

“Ah!” Jessica screamed. She waved the stick in one hand and covered her mouth with the other, trying to control her loud, high-spirited reaction. “Ah, it’s positive,” she told him.

“Really?” Kilgrave asked with a grin. “That means positive? Don’t lie to me, Jessica.” He still had difficulty trusting her, but it was unnecessary in that moment. Jessica wanted a child with him. Why would she lie? If the test were false, she would want him to know. That way they could keep trying.

“Yes,” Jessica said. “Yes, yes, it’s positive. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” She screamed again, excitement and glee. “Oh, thank you for this.” She hugged him, wrapping her arms around Kilgrave with gentle pressure. She did not want to hurt him. “Thank you.”

Kilgrave’s hand came up slowly, as if he were hesitant or felt guilt. After wanting a child, suddenly he acted like the moment of discovery was wrong. He let the emotion go and returned her embrace. “You’re welcome,” he said, speaking in a soft voice. “You’re welcome, darling.”

“Is something wrong?” Jessica asked, speaking the words into the shirt covering his chest.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” he said. “It’s exactly how I wanted you to react.” That was the problem. Kilgrave let go of Jessica and pushed her away, back into her own space on the bed. “Why can you never do these things without a little push? All I wanted was some genuine happiness on your part and you...” He shook his head. “Do you see _why_  I have to control you sometimes, Jessica? You would have ruined this for us.”

Jessica felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Kilgrave ordered. “Apologize to our child. It’s their special day you were going to piss all over.”

Jessica put a hand on either side of her thin stomach and apologized once more. She had to. “I’m sorry.”

Kilgrave sighed, deflating the hot air from his anger. “God, I can’t stay mad at you when you already look so damn beautiful and maternal.” He hugged her again and rocked them back and forth. “Look at us,” he cheerily said, “succeeding on our first try. I told you we were compatible, didn’t I?”

“I’m so happy,” Jessica beamed. She could not help but smile. It was what she wanted. “We should celebrate.”

“Yes,” Kilgrave pulled down the strap of her dress and kissed her shoulder, “we... should.”

They celebrated. And when they were done with that round, Kilgrave announced a second one on land. “There’s a decent Italian place in town,” he said. “I had lunch there. I’ll take you out for dinner so we can finish celebrating.”

Celebrating a baby. Her baby with Kilgrave. What she wanted.

It was what she wanted. Right?

Jessica gave him a kiss and got up to get ready. “I’ll put on the new dress you got for me.”

“Wonderful idea, darling.”

It took a day for Kilgrave’s effect to wear off. Slowly, Jessica parted the fog and remembered that, no, she did not want it. She did not want any of it but especially not a goddamn child.

There were not many fragile objects in their cabin, but unbreakables had a way of tearing apart beneath her strength. A book shattered one of the windows. The lamp cracked open drywall and almost went through the metal hull. She destroyed the bed.

“Jessica!” All of the noise got Kilgrave’s attention. Jessica raised her fist. The door burst open. “Stop!”

Her hand stopped before it met her stomach, before she could do irreparable damage to her insides. She could not move.

“I don’t want it!” she screamed.

“Yes, you—”

“Don’t!” she interrupted. “Don’t you keep me snowed for the next eight goddamn months. That is not a fucking partnership!” It was enslavement— again.

“You’re right,” Kilgrave agreed, at least pretending to care about her. He came further into the room and closer to her. His hand lowered hers down to her side. “Your thoughts should be your own. You’re right. I’ll... try not to do that again, I suppose.” He would inevitably fail. “See?” He looked into her face and smiled. “I’m trying.”

“I don’t... want... this thing inside me,” Jessica growled.

“All right, lose the attitude,” Kilgrave scoffed. He did not like conversing with her when she was being, as he considered it, difficult. Jessica kept her thoughts and convictions but felt a calm wash over her. Her anger was lost as she cooled down and dropped her attitude. “Now,” he continued, and he led them to a pair of chairs in the corner, one of which he had to pick off the floor. They sat. “We will be keeping the baby.” Jessica opened her mouth. “Ah-bup-bup.” He held up a finger for silence. “I think it will be good for us.” Kilgrave leaned forward and put his disgusting hand on her knee. “You don’t see it now, but I know,” he chose his words carefully, no directives, “I know you will love our child. I can’t let you get rid of it before you ever get that chance.” How magnanimous. Kilgrave sat back in his chair. “I... apologize for planting the false excitement in your head or whatever. I just wanted you to be as happy as I am.” He smiled so bright, a smile which intimated nothing good and suited the situation perfectly. “We’re going to be a family— you, me, and a little one to take care of. Be honest now,” he insisted, “that’s got to be a little satisfying to think about. Can you imagine it? Me changing nappies, wiping noses? You’ve got to have fun imagining that one, yes?”

“Yes.” It was satisfying. Jessica simply did not want for it to be her child. She did not want for Kilgrave to have access to one. Jessica spoke evenly, depriving her words of anger and attitude. “You’re forgetting the part where you’re so stuck in your shitty fantasy of tying me down that you neglected to include a kid at the end of it. A baby is a responsibility.” Kilgrave rolled his eyes. “You can’t just... go out partying or jump from penthouse to penthouse.”

Kilgrave huffed a sigh and let his head loll along his shoulders. “You say that like the world isn’t flush with babysitters. Honestly, as if we’d ever have to stay inside when we had something better to do.”

“I want this thing out of me.”

“Oh, stop saying that already.” Jessica glared at him and his careless commands. “Sorry,” he dismissed. “I know you like yelling at me for telling you what to do, but at least you’ve still got your wits about not wanting to be pregnant.” He did not make her fall in love with the idea again. He simply would not let her express hatred towards it. “You know it’s happening, so I suggest you just accept it and move on. Worry about other things.”

In all their time together Kilgrave forced worse tortures on her than pregnancy. He made her commit worse sins. What he demanded now defied their usual pattern of murder and mayhem. It was a peaceful plan, a distracting lifestyle, and no one would suffer but her.

That was the rationale Jessica tried to feed herself. She did not want to swallow. “Please,” she asked, knowing that begging never worked.

“No.” There would be no appealing his decision. “You weren’t wrong about what you said. Part of the reason I’m doing this is to tie you down. I’ll admit to that, sure.” Kilgrave got up from his chair and glass crunched beneath his shoe. “Give you enough things to keep you with me, maybe you’ll stop trying to leave.”

“You can’t actually think that having some pathetic family unit will make me want to stay with you,” Jessica said, knowing it was a perfect match to his delusions.

“Maybe not yet,” Kilgrave agreed. He held out hope she would change her mind in the future. In fact, he was certain of it. “I’m done talking about this now. So are you.” The conversation was suspended. Other matters were addressed. “Well,” he clicked is tongue and surveyed the damage Jessica wrought, “I’m not staying in this dump.” He stuck his head out the door and yelled, “Captain! Set a course for land!”

A minute later, the ship took a wide right turn.

“So darling,” Kilgrave asked as he poured himself a drink from the last standing liquor bottle, “where would you like to go? Anywhere in the world, you name it.”

“You never let me choose.”

Kilgrave shrugged and drank. “I’m feeling generous,” he said. “Call it my apology.”

Jessica did not have to think. “New York.”

“New York?” he moaned like a child. “We just left there. We’ve spent most of our time there. Don’t you want someplace new yet?”

“It’s familiar to me,” Jessica said. “All of this,” she gestured at her stomach, “doesn’t it go better if I’m in a comfortable environment, not stressed?” There was, in all of her misery, one manipulative advantage.

“Well played, Jones,” he conceded with a grin. “New York it is.”

It was nighttime when they docked. Kilgrave told Jessica to wait on the boat. Twenty minutes later, he returned with the nicest car in a five mile radius. He would have nothing less. The passenger window rolled down and Kilgrave told her to get in.

“Do you even have a license?” Jessica nagged.

“I know how to drive a car,” he deflected.

“That’s not good enough,” she said. “I want out.”

She opened the door but Kilgrave grabbed her wrist before she could leave. “Oh, stop being all PTSD survivor and get in the damn car.”

Jessica sat down and buckled her seatbelt. She could not get out but she could practice all the safety possible. When Kilgrave revved the sports car’s engine, she told him, “Just drive slow.”

He pressed the gas one more time before letting it settle. “Spoilsport.”

They drove almost an hour until they arrived at an airfield. A small personal jet was parked on the tarmac.

“Come on,” Kilgrave said as he got out of the car. “I’m not driving all the bloody way back.”

The plane was gassed and ready for the trip its owner never got to take.

“Fly us to New York City,” Kilgrave told the pilot when they stepped up into the cabin. Jessica huffed and walked past. “Oh, don’t be so moody,” he said. “They’ll get their plane back. Just like how that other man will get his car. No harm done.”

“Get the owner too,” she demanded. “That way it doesn’t look like the pilot went AWOL and stole a twenty million dollar jet.”

“Smart thinking,” Kilgrave commended. If he thought it was in the interest of covering their own tracks and keeping them off a lawful radar, he missed the point. But Jessica knew he did not give a damn if the pilot served time for felony theft. “Take a rest, Jessica. I’ll let the owner know he wants to be generous.”

“Make the pilot file a new flight plan so we don’t get shot down by damn anti-terrorism drones or some shit.”

“God, we work well together,” he said with a grin.

They did. She wanted nothing to do with it.

Jessica laid out on a long couch that nearly went the length of an entire wall. When Kilgrave joined her, he sat in a chair he could spin around in like a child. Around and around he went until he stuck out his foot and looked at her across the cabin.

“Do you really not want to be pregnant?” he asked. Only Kilgrave would have to ask it.

“No.”

He paused to think about her answer. The deed was done but it was not yet irreversible. “And what would you do right now if I actually did leave the choice up to you?”

“The pill,” Jessica said, “or an actual procedure.” She would go to a clinic and have no regrets. “Before I got the pill to Hope she tried having another inmate beat it out of her.”

“All right, stop now.” He did not want to hear her vile solutions. “You women are so melodramatic, I swear.” Kilgrave resumed spinning in his chair.

“And you’re the king of melodrama who, by the way,” she reminded him, “hates children.”

He stopped spinning again. He stood on dizzy legs and found his way to the liquor cabinet. He downed a finger of scotch. “Other people’s children,” he conceded. “Think I might like my own though.” There was possibility in what he said. Kilgrave was the most narcissistic son of a bitch Jessica ever met. He loved every part of himself, and a child was an extension of that.

“But what if you don’t?”

Kilgrave paused with a grin on his face. The unfortunate idea amused him. “Fuck, I hadn’t thought of that.” He tried to evaluate consequences but had never been a man to think about something so irrelevant to his lifestyle. He shrugged. “Eh, I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Jessica imagined a worst case scenario in which he got bored and left her alone with a baby. It was difficult to frown too deeply on a situation where he left.

Private airstrips were nice for avoiding the tedium of airports. What more, Jessica did not have to lift a finger when they disembarked. Kilgrave was forced to do the heavy lifting with that overworked little organ in his mouth. He loved flexing his devil’s tongue. He handled security at the airstrip, got them a car, secured a nice hotel, and had room service sent up. Jessica hated the privilege.

“Suppose you’ll want to call Patsy up on the phone,” Kilgrave assumed, “tell her we’re in town, let her come rescue you.”

“No.”

“Tell the truth.”

Jessica’s hands clenched closed. “I wanted New York,” she said, “so I can try to escape you on familiar ground.” New York was a bustling city with millions of people and dozens of streets, hundreds of back-alleys. She could disappear there like nowhere else. She could run farther once she did. “You’ve controlled Trish twice and terrified her both times. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Because you’re stronger than her?” he said. “You can take my suggestions when she can’t? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Kilgrave thought on every ramification of losing Trish as leverage. “Eh, she’s a wet blanket anyway,” he decided. “Sanctimonious goody-goody. Not like us, couple of self-described arseholes.”

“No. She’s not.”

“I should just leave her alone completely then?”

“Yes.” Jessica kept her replies short even though it was pointless. Kilgrave knew how much Trish meant to her. There were no secrets she could give away with long, entreating pleas.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Tell you what, you don’t involve Patsy, I won’t drag her back in either. You don’t disappear from me, I don’t have to show up on her doorstep asking if she’s seen you. You resign yourself to having my child, I don’t tell Patsy she’s an aunt. How’s all that? Sound good? Do we have a deal?”

There was no greater act of heroism than personal sacrifice. There was no greater person for whom to make a sacrifice than the one that meant more to her than anything. Sometimes Jessica was still a hero.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”

Her life was shit anyway. Kilgrave was getting the wrong end of the deal.

“Great!” He clapped his hands together. “What do you say we go break in that mattress over there?”

Once they were settled in, Kilgrave resumed his love for nightlife. He took Jessica out with him most of the time, though she wished he would not. It was torture to look at a glass of alcohol sitting out or sloshing in someone’s hand and know she could not drink it. Kilgrave would not let her. But she still went with him because there was good to do. There was always some horrible act she talked him down from. He actually listened to her most of the time. On very rare occasions, he stopped himself, as if the prick were actually capable of learning.

Other times, Kilgrave had personal business or simply did not want to take Jessica with him. He assured her though, on deaf, uncaring ears, he was not cheating on her. No, in their farce of a union, he was monogamous— by his claim.

Time alone was never time for independent thought or action, however. After her outburst on the yacht and her spoken intentions on the plane, Kilgrave had suspicion and difficulty leaving Jessica by herself. He did not trust her. So in letting her keep her mind, he had to take away her action, one action specifically.

When Kilgrave left Jessica unsupervised, he spoke the newest command in his repertoire, always making sure to say, “Be a good mother, Jessica.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titled after "Break Me Shake Me" by Savage Garden. I think all chapters have been song titles so far. Hm. I may have too many dark, Jessigrave songs. lol.


	5. To New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay in update.

“I love American football,” Kilgrave said. The obscenely wide television in the hotel was a perfect conduit for the sport. “It’s terribly violent. Not so much as rugby, but... it scratches the itch.”

“I hate football.” He made Jessica watch it with him but he did not make her like it. “Super-sized jocks running around giving each other brain damage.”

“Well, if you don’t like it,” he said, “make yourself useful.” He raised his tumbler and clanged the ice against the glass. “Get your loving husband another drink.”

Jessica got up and snatched the glass from his hand. “We are _not_  married.”

When she came back with his drink, dragging her feet as much as possible, Jessica arrived at the end of an introspective deliberation. “I could always make you marry me,” Kilgrave casually threatened, “lawfully. I could.” The idea of it made Jessica anxious, knowing she would be unable to stop the ceremony and unable to stop herself. “But I won’t.” Kilgrave reached forward and took his drink from her. He sipped it while he watched the game on mute. “It’s not a vow if you don’t mean it. Just words,” he muttered. “I can make you say words to me at home.” Kilgrave wanted a sincere pledge from her. “But who knows?” Jessica knew. “Maybe one day you will mean it.” He waited for that day and would not counterfeit nuptials without it.

Kilgrave did not make Jessica marry him. Their only commitment remained that inerasable one: a child.

Jessica could not keep a reliable measure of time, but her stomach was not very large yet. It simply looked round and mature on her slender frame and in the thin sundress Kilgrave made her wear. It was noticeable as she stood there in front of the television.

“This is actually not a good look for you,” Kilgrave criticized with a snort. “You’re a skinny little post on your average day, only now you’ve got this... bump.” He laughed.

“Whose fault is that?” Jessica stepped forward and exploited the loophole in his daily-reiterated command. She could not kill or hurt him. A slap on the side of the head did not hurt when she kept her considerable strength restrained.

“Ow!” Kilgrave exclaimed. “No hitting.”

It was fun while it lasted.

Now that she was out from under the order to sit and watch sports, Jessica left him to find some manner of distraction besides football. Kilgrave turned around on the couch, digging his knees into the cushions and following her with his eyes. “When are you going to start being a sweet little wife, eh?”

“Never.” She would not unless he made her, and somewhat true to his word, he was respecting her mind this round.

“It’s not asking too much that you dote on me the same way I do you.” Yes, it was. “All I want is a charming and accommodating Jessica who loves me in return and makes me wonderful delicious meals from scratch in the kitchen.”

“We don’t have a kitchen.”

They were wearing out their free welcome at the hotel. Kilgrave had to constantly reaffirm the manager— and now also the owner— that there was nothing wrong with letting them have the penthouse suite for months without a single charge. He would most likely find them a victim to live with soon.

“Do you want a house, Jessica?” Kilgrave asked. “Our own house. I could get us one. I’d even do it semi-legally. No more theft of penthouses or comped hotels. A home, yeah.” The more Kilgrave thought about the idea, the more it captivated him. Now that they were committed to it, he wanted to do all the normal things a family did. “I do still own the Jones family home, of course. We can go back there. Raise our little sprog where you grew up. How’s that sound?”

“No.” Jessica did not want to go back there. It held too many painful memories and she did not want to add on. The good ones needed to remain intact and outnumber them. “I like the city.”

“No, of course you do,” he sighed. Kilgrave wanted to play house in the grandest ways. He wanted to make all the decisions an expectant father should. He walked around the couch to stand at her side. “What about a townhouse, eh? A nice boring brownstone? That might be a good fit for us, given our growing situation.” His hand hovered over her stomach without touching.

“Do whatever you want,” Jessica told him. She had no opinion or voting power. Kilgrave’s hand grabbed her when she tried to walk away.

“You know how much it pisses me off when you go all apathetic on me.” His voice held that irritation he was trying to control.

“And yet I still don’t care.”

“Jessica,” Kilgrave said, calling her name in that special tone which always preceded a command, “come house shopping with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let me just put on some shoes.”

“Excellent.”

They went for a leisurely stroll and discussed the pros and cons of various neighborhoods and buildings. When Kilgrave found a place that met his expectations, he told Jessica he was going to buy it.

A week later, they moved in.

Jessica did not care. He could not make her care. Or rather, he left the choice to care up to her and Jessica abstained.

They walked around a wide empty room beneath vaulted ceilings where their footsteps echoed. Movers worked around them, bringing in furniture they did not pay for. Most of it was ugly and ostentatious, a far cry from the secondhand belongings Jessica threw into her apartment. None of it mattered.

“Tomorrow,” Kilgrave instructed, “I want you to use your considerable investigative skills to find the best gourmet class in the city. You, my dear, are about to receive a scholarship.” He pinched her cheek and grinned. “I remember all your meals last time were ghastly, inedible.”

Jessica pushed his hand away. “I’m fine with hotdogs on the corner.”

“God, don’t I know it,” he groaned. “All our time together and you still reject basic refinement.”

“Forks go on the left,” Jessica said. “The knife can go up your ass, for all I care.”

Kilgrave scowled at her. “Do you want to see your gourmet kitchen?”

“No.” She absolutely did not.

“Of course you do.”

“Sure,” Jessica recanted. “You can show me the microwave I’ll be reheating all your meals in.”

They walked around the entire house, surveying each room the movers finished. Kilgrave gave them constant orders of, “Faster,” and, “Do not break anything.” It was pitiful watching the poor men try to accomplish both. Jessica told Kilgrave to actually pay and tip them.

When they were alone, it was thankfully the sofa in the den they retired to, not the bedroom. The gas fireplace in front of them flickered back and forth over colored glass. A hand rubbed up and down Jessica’s lower thigh.

“Do you like our home?” Kilgrave asked her. “Be honest.”

“It’s not to my tastes,” Jessica honestly answered.

“You’ll like it,” he assured. It was not an immediate order, so Jessica got to go on believing what she did and nothing more. “It’ll be nice, a place to hang our coats, a shred of stability.” Jessica’s life consisted of various stages of instability. She doubted a permanent address with Kilgrave would be the grand end to that. “I haven’t had a home in thirty years,” he told her. “Not since my parents left me.” He stared into the fire that lit his face and danced upon it. In that moment, Jessica was simply a receptive ear to him. He never opened up about his life before. Now, she knew his secrets. He confided in her and expanded on them. “The first day, I gave them the benefit of the doubt. I thought... maybe they got called away in a hurry, forgot to hire me a sitter. The second day, I thought something horrible must have happened to them, an accident. Third day, I ran out of food I could fix myself. So I... went next door to the neighbors. You know the rest from there.”

“A lifetime of living off other people’s hard work,” Jessica summarized.

“Those were the worst three days of my life, I think. Worse than all the tests, worse than you leaving me to get hit by a bus and need a damn kidney transplant— while wide awake. What I felt in those three days was... It was helplessness.” That emotion was powerful. It was often glossed over beneath well-established and simple expressions like happiness, anger, and sadness, but helplessness was something which consumed every person at one point or another, making them feel small and fragile. Kilgrave hated helplessness, and though he inflicted it upon other people, he did everything in his power to keep it from himself. Never again. “What I felt was- was heartache. I thought they didn’t love me anymore. I thought I was this... ruined thing, unwanted, unloved. They left me alone at the ripe age of ten and let me believe my life was unsalvageable. Who does that to a little boy? Who does that?”

“You hurt your mother,” Jessica said. “They were afraid for their lives. You made _them_  feel helpless. They did the only goddamn thing people can do around you: got as far away as they could.”

“You wouldn’t leave your child,” Kilgrave asked, “would you, Jessica?” She did not know and had no answer, not until he gave her one. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“No,” she said. “No, of course I wouldn’t.”

“No.” He held her face between his hands and brought it forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “Because you’re a good mother.”

“I am,” she agreed.

“You are what?” he demanded. “Say it.”

“I am a good mother,” she stated.

“And you wouldn’t leave your child, would you?”

“No.”

“You won’t leave me.”

“No.”

Kilgrave did not want anyone to leave him again, not like his selfish parents. Jessica would never do that. She cozied up to his side and watched the fire. An arm came around her shoulder and held her close.

“I won’t leave you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the record, I’m not trying to redeem Kilgrave. He’s irredeemable. I’d have to give him amnesia or a 300k word plot. However, he doesn’t see himself as a villain and will continue to pity himself. And I always strive to write people in-character so...


	6. I'll Be Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in update. I got distracted by obligations irl, and then I just forgot about it. I'll try not to do that again. Three chapters left!

If they went to a doctor for check-ups, Jessica could not remember. Sometimes she got flashes in the back of her head: a glowing monitor, a thumping heartbeat, a hand holding hers. She did not know if they were real or a dream. Jessica lived her life in fog. Objects might come nearer, be clearer, but there was so much she could not see. Even time circled around her enigmatically. The best observations she could manage were day or night, winter or spring— or summer. Her greatest linear timeline, unfortunately, was growth. A gestating stomach went only one way.

“I don’t like controlling you,” he said in a somber tone. Early morning sunlight came through the window, lying upon their bed and upon one of those rare moments when Kilgrave spoke sincerely, no arrogant pomp added in. “While it’s true I wasn’t able to then, I meant everything I said when you joined me at your old house. I wanted you to come willingly. I want that now. I just,” he sighed, “I can’t trust you. And I hate that. I really do.”

“You can trust me,” Jessica insisted. Her fingers squeezed the fabric of his shirt in frustration. It was not what she wanted to say.

“Uh, no,” Kilgrave argued. “No, I can’t. But maybe one day.” He held out hope, an eternally pledged hope. “You’ll come to love me,” he said, trying desperately to convince himself. “I’m sure of it.” The conversation was pathetic and one-sided. Jessica could not speak well and he could not stomach shoving lies in her mouth over such a delicate subject. “Go on,” he permitted. “Speak freely.” Sometimes he actually wanted to hear her thoughts.

Jessica did not talk of love. She mentioned none of what he wanted. Even with his blessing, it was difficult to speak through the haze in her brain. She did not waste the opportunity. “Don’t kill anyone,” she asked.

“Don’t kill?” he scoffed, and his brow lowered with offense. “That’s what you come up with? I’m pouring my heart out to you, Jessica Jones, and you’re more preoccupied with inconsequential little strangers. Strangers who, by the way, _I have never killed!_ ” He waved his hand, dismissing her. “Just stop talking. I hate when you do the whole savior act.”

Jessica closed her mouth and could not make a sound. Kilgrave tried to find contentment in the silence that ticked by.

“Unless,” it occurred to him several moments later, “is that a condition?” He raised up to look at her. “Will that help? Is that what you’re saying? Not killing anyone, that will help you to love me?” Jessica did not answer. “Oh, for God’s sake, _speak_. Talk. Use your bloody words.”

“Yes.” Nothing could help her love him, but there were preventable actions that could keep her from hating him any deeper. “You know how I feel about it.”

“Yeah,” he sulked, “but what if it’s necessary?”

“It’s never necessary.”

Kilgrave disagreed. “If it’s them or me,” he said, “I will choose me every time, Jessica.” He was not entirely deaf to her request. “If it is not necessary... I will... abstain.” For a man who delighted in wanton death and chaos, it was a notable sacrifice. “There,” he exhaled, “does that make you happy?”

“No,” Jessica said, telling the truth even when Kilgrave did not want to hear it. To reward his effort, however, she added to her answer, saying, “But it helps.” That was all he wanted.

“Thank you,” he expressed. “That lets me know you understand that I’m willing to try for you.” There was vulnerable affection in his eyes. “I exhaust myself for you, woman.” He tried to blame her for it. “But you’re worth it.” Kilgrave’s hand rested on the curve of her stomach. “I love you... very much.”

“Maybe you do,” Jessica finally conceded. She was willing to believe that he believed his claim. “You’re just shit at it.” Kilgrave was a miserable, self-absorbed prick, capable of loving no one but himself. “That’s who you are.” There was no fixing him, now or ever. Jessica understood and accepted that. All she could do was try to remove others from his path. That was her, a hero. Not for the first time, Jessica wondered if she could leave even if she had free will. The only command he would have to give is that she not kill him. Nothing else was necessary. Jessica would stay and be the conscience whispering in Kilgrave’s ear. It was a shitty duty for the only shitty person whose opinion he heeded. If Jessica could not kill him, it was all she would then do. “I’m here,” she said, “with you. I’ll stay with you.”

Kilgrave let that pledge sink in. He did not believe it. “Be honest.”

“I am. I’ll stay with you,” she repeated, “until you lose interest.”

“Oh, I could never lose interest in you,” he said. “Just like right now, you’re always full of such lovely surprises. There’s not a boring bone in your entire body, Jessica Jones.” He thought over her proposal. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll take off the leash, let you run around, do what you want.” Kilgrave was a curious individual. He wanted to see what would happen. “But if you don’t come back, of course—”

“I’ll come back.” Jessica did not need the very sincere threat. She would return. And she would hate herself for it the entire time.

“Yeah, but not because you want to.”

“No.” She could not lie and did not lie. “But I’ll come back without you telling me to. Isn’t that enough?”

To Kilgrave, it was at least some progress in the right direction. It was moving forward to the next half-step. “I’ve been careful about what I make you do,” he said. “I remember what broke our spell the last time. I forced you to do something that went against every principle you stood for. You killed someone. And that was that.” His tone of voice was soft with introspection. In the moment of their minor breakthrough, he shared a thought which had been on his mind for some time. “So the fact that you’re still here with me now, it has to mean... something, doesn’t it?” Kilgrave pleaded his case for himself. He rolled onto his side and dragged his finger along her stomach in meaningless designs. “Being with me isn’t so horrible that it’s given you the strength to walk away. And pregnant, pregnant with my child, it...” It was significant, a direct blow against Jessica’s wishes. “But here you are, still susceptible. Do you think that means... Do you think it could mean some part of you... might want this?”

Jessica could not answer. The very thought made her sick.

“You fought murder with every ounce of hatred in you, but that strength is missing now. It’s- It’s less, isn’t it?”

“You’re stronger,” Jessica said, a good defense, a credible defense.

“Strong enough to tell you what to do again,” Kilgrave agreed. “Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to make you push another woman in front of a bus.” There was some small relief in knowing he would not use her as a weapon of death again. “You’ve got to be thinking it now though, haven’t you? Now that I’ve put the notion in your brain.” He planted it there and sowed its rapid growth. “Is some part of Jessica Jones amenable to having my child?”

“Stop talking.” Jessica wanted him to stop before he ordered her to answer. She did not know the truth anymore. Everything was so confusing. It was so confusing. Jessica did not want Kilgrave to make her tell the truth. She had no idea what she might say. “Please, just... I’m tired, okay?”

“You get tired so easily these days.”

Pregnancy was a good excuse to avoid conversations or tasks. Kilgrave was surprisingly lenient when she asked for a rest. Maybe he knew stress was detrimental. He knew not to provoke more.

“I do wonder what could break you though,” he said. His hand laid flat on her abdomen, a heavy and oppressive weight. “I wonder how far I could push it before you got free of me again.”

Jessica turned over onto her side, away from him. “But then you’d have to kill me.”

“Not necessarily.”

“You wanted me because you could control me,” Jessica said. “Then you said you loved me because you couldn’t.” The third stage of their relationship combined both. Kilgrave said he loved her while he controlled her. “The only reason I’m not dead now is because you’re able to tell me what to do again. You have tried to kill me every time you couldn’t.”

“For self-preservation,” he argued. “I _want_  to be with you, Jessica, but until you come around, you’d break me in half.”

“I’m tired,” Jessica said again.

“All right, fine.” Kilgrave got out of bed. “Lie there and... rest or whatever the hell you want. Do whatever you want. Just be back before sunset.”

He exited to their large walk-in closet and dressed himself for the day, a day of leisurely indulgence and vices. Like him, Jessica was free to go out and do. Unlike him, she did not want to.

“Be a good little mother while I’m gone, Jessica.”

It was a simple command and an obvious action. Be a good mother.

Jessica did not want to be a mother at all, let alone a good one. She would not set out to be a bad one, but she had diminished strength of spirit. Mothers required more. Mothers required everything. Jessica had such little everything left. She did not want to give it away.

When she was with Kilgrave before, Jessica exploited the liberties behind loopholes, finding every little trick she could. It helped her before. It helped her friends when they fought him. It helped her now. Sometimes, there was a boundary to push. Jessica could find scraps of free will so long as it did not contradict what Kilgrave said. She could hold the knife to her stomach. She could not push it in.

She had to be a good mother.


	7. Delivery

If there were ever an occasion to be thankful for Kilgrave’s influence, it was in a time of need.

“We will take your most luxurious suite,” he commanded in a smooth, pleasant voice. “And the best doctor while you’re at it. I don’t care if you have to call him away from something. My Jessica deserves the best.”

The room they were escorted to was soothing with muted paint colors and warm, golden light, nothing fluorescent. The design was extravagant, better than some hotels Jessica slept in. Any and every necessary staff member was at her beck and call, prepared to give whatever she needed as soon as she needed it. The whole commotion was excessive, more than Jessica required, but it was nice, she supposed, to worry about nothing else.

“All you have to do,” Kilgrave told her, “is think about our little bundle of joy.” He held her hand and kissed it. “I’ll handle the rest, darling.”

It was an easier labor than most women got, void of a great many stresses. Over and over Kilgrave told her to relax, focus only on what she was doing. Jessica had to obey him.

There was an unfamiliar and indescribable sense of relief that came with a single-minded brain. All else faded. It was the greatest calm Jessica felt in years.

There was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

It was bliss.

Jessica did not come back around until the job was done. Her haven left her. She could no longer focus solely on labor once baby and afterbirth were delivered.

There was crying.

Her mind was hazy.

There was talk about numbers and measurements.

The doctors and nurses took care of everything and Kilgrave took care of them, keeping everyone under the mentality that all was normal. It was an average day at work. Jessica did not have to think about it. She barely thought about anything until a new order grabbed her.

“Look here.”

She turned her head.

“Somebody wants to see his mummy,” Kilgrave sang. He came to the side of her bed and offered Jessica a white blanket with a blue stripe wrapping around its occupant. “Go on, Jessica. Hold him.”

Jessica held out her hands automatically, mindful of the command Kilgrave was not aware he made her perform.

“He’s a handsome little chap, isn’t he?”

Babies were ugly and they all looked the same. Theirs was no different. Kilgrave saw what he wanted to see, like any true narcissist.

“Little wisp of dark hair,” he commented, “hardly surprising. But I think he has my eyes.”

Two big eyes were scrunched closed beneath splotchy red skin. “What eyes?”

“Well not _now_ ,” he said. “He’s nodded off. You’ll see them later. But look at that itty little button nose!” He tapped it with his finger. “That’s you all over, dear.”

Jessica hated to admit it, but even on a squashed, wrinkly face, that nose looked familiar. “Damn it.” There it was, a physical manifestation of herself mixed with Kilgrave.

They had a child.

“Don’t you just love him?” Kilgrave sighed.

“Do _you_?”

To his credit, Kilgrave did consider the question before he spoke. He thought about his answer. Unfortunately, that answer was still an ambivalent, “I don’t really know.”

Neither of them held conclusive judgment towards the child, which was an unsettling concept. Parental love was meant to be instantaneous and unconditional. They lacked that and it was a bad sign, a horrible and unfortunate sign. No one could choose their parents, and Jessica knew even a child for whom she felt nothing but resentment did not deserve them.

She tried to push the infant away on Kilgrave or a nurse— anyone else. “Put it up for adoption,” she said. “Please.” She did not want to take care of it. She could not. And for its own health and safety, she did not want it near them.

“Jessica, come now,” Kilgrave chided. “It’s not an it. It’s a he.”

“We cannot do this,” Jessica stated. What she addressed as a horrid act performed upon an innocent child, Kilgrave interpreted as parental ability.

“No, but we’ll learn,” he assured her. “No grandparents to seek advice from, unfortunately, but I will find the best nanny in the city. I promise.”

“Please,” she asked again, “be a... father worth a damn and do what’s right. Give him to somebody that wants a kid, somebody who can love him.”

“You love him,” Kilgrave said, and temporarily, she would. “I want him. Isn’t that enough?”

No. It was not enough.

“Please.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you. Well, you’re not abandoning him, Jessica. I won’t let you. You are going to give this your best shot.” She would give it her best shot, but that still was not good enough, not after she tried to get rid of the child. “Kiss his head,” Kilgrave ordered, forcing physical displays of love onto her for his own peace of mind. Jessica kissed the baby. “Good. Now tell him you love him.”

Jessica held the bundle close. “I love you.”

“And that you would never ever do something so incredibly selfish as giving him away.”

“I will... never give you away.”

Kilgrave sighed. For the moment, he was satisfied. “Have to make a damn ordeal out of everything, don’t you?” He pushed a hand through his hair and tried to let go of his frustration. “Well then, now that the two of you are getting all acquainted, all that’s left for me to do is find a match for this expensive, celebratory cigar.” Kilgrave reached for his jacket laid over a chair and pulled a cigar from the pocket. He drew the length of it under his nose for a sniff.

“You can’t smoke that in here,” a nurse interrupted.

“Yes, I can,” he disagreed.

The woman looked dazed before nodding her head. “Of course you can,” she said. “My apologies, sir.”

“Just take it outside,” Jessica told him. “There’s, like, oxygen and shit in here.”

“Fine.” He put the cigar away. “You’ve no idea the trouble I went through to get that.”

“Probably nowhere near as much as the man who smuggled it in,” Jessica knowingly replied.

“Yeah, I think he might’ve been pissed when I took the whole crate of them,” Kilgrave said with a smirk. “Fantastic resale value though. Always nice to have actual cash on hand. Plus,” he added, “I don’t even like cigars.”

“Then why smoke the goddamn thing?”

“It’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “Wife has the baby and excited new father goes out and smokes a cigar or some other testosterone-laden bullshit.”

“We are not married.”

Kilgrave never stopped forgetting that. “But I am a father.” He was. “And you’re a mother.”

Jessica laid back as far as her elevated bed allowed. “Don’t remind me.”

“You know...” Kilgrave followed her, scooting further onto Jessica’s bed and reclining with her. “If ever in my thirty years alone I would do something... remotely considerate of others,” he said in a quiet voice, “I used to wonder if my parents would care, if it would make them proud. Maybe they would... understand that I could do something good.” Something too close to genuine sentiment possessed him, and so Kilgrave blew it away. “I know better now of course. They could never see me as anything more than a- a monster. That’s all I ever was to them. But _this_ ,” he pointed to the infant, “making a person, that’s good. I don’t need Mum and Dad to tell me a damn thing. That’s good.” He sounded so certain until he did not. “Isn’t it?”

It was Jessica’s turn to be ambivalent. “I don’t know.” Was it a good thing to create a person if that person was cursed to spend its youth with them? They were not good people. Could bad people like them contribute anything positive to the world?

“My parents didn’t believe in atonement, just like you.” He chuckled. “Rather I should say you don’t believe in it for me. You’re all about redeeming your own standing, aren’t you? Because the dishonesty and hypocrisy of Jessica Jones knows no bounds.”

“Are we really gonna do this shit today?” Jessica muttered. God, she was tired. Between Kilgrave in her head and hospital drugs in her body, she could barely think straight. Intelligent debate was far beyond her. Already, she had attempted enough of it.

“No.” Kilgrave stopped himself. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I’m stopping now. I’m stopping. No more remarking on your two-facedness today.” He never could turn it off. “I simply wanted to point out that you and I, we’re lost causes, aren’t we? Seen too much, done too much. We’re like the filthy, useless toxic waste of society.” Jessica hated when he compared them, but the worst part was he was not entirely wrong. The good she did used to mean something, but after Kilgrave, it only ever felt like reparations. “But,” he said, giving them both a chance at redemption, “if we were to create a truly productive member of society, well... maybe there’s still a chance for us. Maybe this is our community service. The better the child, the greater our penance.”

“You really want to put your moldy, rotten soul in the hands of a goddamn child?” she scoffed. “That’s your big plan for absolution? God, you better start praying this brat creates world peace, solves world hunger, and cures cancer— as a start.”

“I’d rather not pray for another medical researcher in the family, thank you very much,” Kilgrave said, and given his strong feelings for his parents, it was hardly surprising he did not want his son to follow in their footsteps. “Bring on the rest of it, I say. Let the little guy save the world.”

“Still just a drop in the bucket,” Jessica called it.

“Don’t I know it,” he agreed. “Honestly, Jessica, pursuing you showed me all the ugliness I’m capable of. It inspired more harshness and cruelty than I previously would have thought possible from myself. And the worst part is you actually made me _feel bad_  for what I was doing. No one had ever done that before. At the end of it I even reached a point where I didn’t care if I lived or died.” He laughed. “How pathetic is that?” Jessica had seen the bottomless depths of Kilgrave’s desire to save himself above all others. If there were ever a moment of ambivalence or self-loathing, she never saw it. “But I have a purpose now,” he declared. “Most of my life has only been about myself— providing for myself, giving me whatever it was I wanted. Now though, now I have a responsibility, don’t I? I’ve got this family. It’s them I have to provide for. And it’s terrifying, if I’m being honest. Terrifying but... fulfilling— maybe that’s the emotion. I’ve never had a purpose before. I kind of like it. Is this what gets normal people out of bed in the morning? It is rather exhilarating in a helpless way, like falling off a cliff or something.” He took a deep breath in and puffed out his chest like some manly lumberjack. “I think I might like it.” He would like it until he became bored.

“Good for you,” Jessica murmured. “Can I put this thing down yet?” The baby felt heavy in her arms even though she had ample strength to hold him. It was a different sort of weight.

“Anything to avoid responsibility, isn’t that right, dear?”

“I’m tired!” she snapped. “In case you forgot, I just gave birth, asshole.”

“All right, all right. Don’t have to bite my head off. You there, nurse.” Kilgrave snapped his fingers at a woman as she passed through. “We’re done with him for now. Bring over that crib thing there.”

The nurse wheeled over a baby bed made of transparent plastic and lined with a blanket. “Baby Kilgrave,” was stuck on the side of the bassinet with a printed sticker. The baby was taken from Jessica and placed inside.

“Do we have a name picked out?” the overly cheerful nurse inquired. Jessica would not be surprised to learn Kilgrave told the staff to be on their best behavior for her, big smiles and happy attitudes.

Kilgrave blew out an exhale and shrugged. “I certainly never thought of one,” he said. “Jessica?”

“No.” She shook her head. She spent more than nine months not wanting to think about the thing. It went without saying that she never contemplated names. She did not want to come up with one.

“Name the baby, Jessica.”

She had no choice. Jessica said the first little boy name that came to mind. It was written down. It was typed onto an official birth certificate she and Kilgrave each signed. Physically and legally, they had a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm being honest, I might actually prefer them having a girl over a boy. But I wrote this story hoping to keep it brief, and I feel like Jessica and Kilgrave having a daughter invites a lot of drama needing to be discussed. Like wondering if Kilgrave might reevaluate the way he treats women. Etc. Giving them a boy made things easier from a writing standpoint, and I'm fine with that gender too. Either works for me. Just letting you know why I chose boy for this fic.


	8. Warning Signs

It unfolded predictably. For a month, Kilgrave got them a nanny whom he promised operated under her own will and substantial pay. After that month, Jessica told him to let the poor girl go. Voluntary employment did not save her from the occasional command. It did not save her from literally not taking her eyes off the baby. No one deserved to have their mind taken from them, not if Jessica could stop it.  
  
So at two o’ clock in the morning, the baby cried over the monitor now stuck on her nightstand. She tried to ignore it, hoping the miserable child would fall back asleep on his own.  
  
“Jessica,” Kilgrave mumbled, “get the baby, dear.”  
  
She got out of bed and tended to the baby.  
  
Jessica fed him, changed him, walked around with him, all the obvious shit her unqualified ass could guess at. She did that for hours without any of it working. Every time he stopped crying long enough for her to put him down, he started up again. “Pain in the ass,” she muttered when she picked him up.  
  
It was almost five o’ clock when Jessica finally got him to stay down. Her final diagnosis landed on the idea that he simply wanted attention. Like father, like son.  
  
Jessica collapsed into her own bed only to have Asshole Senior wake her back up at seven.  
  
Kilgrave kissed her shoulder. “Good morning.”  
  
“No,” Jessica said with her eyes still closed, “it’s really not.”  
  
“I’m guessing he kept you pretty busy then.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jessica hoped if she could impress her exhaustion upon him, Kilgrave would not give her a mandatory order. “I’m beat,” she said. “Just give me a few hours.” She turned onto her side with her back to him.  
  
Kilgrave followed. He aligned his body with hers and weaseled a hand around her side and over her breast. In her ear he complained, “But I’m hungry.”  
  
“Then make a bowl of cereal like the rest of the lazy-ass planet,” she told him. The last thing Jessica wanted to do was cook him a fancy breakfast.  
  
His tone reflected every ounce of his displeasure and consideration when he spoke. “All right, fine then. I’ll go down the street to a café or... something. I don’t know.” He began pulling his hand away. “Do you want anything?”  
  
“Sleep.” Sarcastically, she added, “And my freedom while you’re at it.”  
  
Kilgrave chuckled at her tenacity. “Tell me what you would even do with free will.”   
  
The simple act of expressing what she wanted was a gift which came along too seldom. Honestly, Jessica told him, “I’d snap your neck.” She often imagined it breaking beneath her hands like the stem of a flower. “Just like I promised Hope.” And where before that might have been enough, Kilgrave had added so many more atrocities onto her since then, including that eternal one of child. She did not simply wish to break the stem anymore. She wanted to pluck the flower, rip off his head like she did with Ruben, the poor bastard.  
  
“You’re very obstinate,” he criticized, and he was frustrated to see such little progress with her despite being together again almost a year. “But I know you’ll come around.”  
  
“Just keep telling yourself that.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t you?” Kilgrave asked. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together. You can’t stay mad at me forever, especially not when I’m treating you so much better this time.”  
  
The worst part was she knew he was right. They would be together forever. “I don’t get out of this,” Jessica whispered, “do I?” Pending some foolish rescue from her friends, she was chained to him until one of them died. Which meant that was their ending, nothing else, nothing premature. Jessica did not want anyone to save her. She did not want the casualties.  
  
“No,” he said, and he almost sounded apologetic. He did not want to keep Jessica there against her will. He craved her voluntary love and commitment. He settled for control. “But I know— I _know_ — you will come to feel the same way for me. It won’t be like this forever. I _long_  for the day, Jessica, where I never have to use my powers on you again. We can finally be happy then. We can be a family.”  
  
“I don’t _want_  to be a goddamn family,” she argued to the deaf man. “I don’t want to be a mother. You made me do it. You _keep_  making me do it.”  
  
“You don’t mean that.” He refused to believe she could. ”Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me what you would do with your freedom, after you supposedly kill me. What about the baby, our little Phillip? What about him?” Kilgrave’s head was buried so deep in the sand, he thought Jessica’s answer would be anything other than the truth.  
  
“Drop him off at a fire station or hospital,” she said, “whichever’s closest. Last I checked, they still take babies with no questions asked.”  
  
Kilgrave pulled away from her and sat up on his side of the bed. In a spiteful, hissing voice, he said, “Talking like that makes you sound like a very, very bad mother, Jessica. Phillip and I might start to get the idea you don’t care about us.”  
  
“I don’t care about you,” Jessica stated loudly and emphatically, hopeful something would sink in. However, Kilgrave was already up and getting dressed to go out.  
  
He came back through a few moments later tying his tie. “I’ll be back whenever I feel like it,” he said. “Be a good mother while I’m gone.” He laughed a cruel and patronizing laugh at his own command. “You know, most women would do that without having to be told. Does it make you happy being rebellious like that? Does it give you some sort of pathetic thrill knowing you’re a horrible mother?”  
  
“Yes. Go away.”  
  
Kilgrave left before it became apparent he had no witty comeback. It was after midnight when he fell back into bed smelling like every bar in New York City. He breathed scotch, bourbon, and beer in Jessica’s face when he comforted her with the assurance that even though he had multiple offers, he did not cheat on her. Jessica let him know she still did not care.  
  
She was woken up again three hours later. Living with two children was exhausting. And it only ever seemed to get worse.  
  
+  
  
Jessica sat on their king-size bed with a mound of wadded up clothes to her right and a few stacks of folded clothes on her left. Slowly, she added to them, folding her clothes, Kilgrave’s casual wear, and an assortment of brightly colored onesies and shorts for a three-month-old. It was a lot of laundry to go through, almost everything they owned. Jessica put it off as long as she could and now that she was finally doing it, she folded each garment just well enough to avoid wrinkles.  
  
Kilgrave paced around watching her work. The bastard liked when she performed domestic tasks. “Edwina could have done that,” he said. “You’re only making matters harder on yourself.”  
  
Jessica fired their maid three weeks ago. “You told her to scrub the goddamn kitchen floors until you could see yourself in them.” One slip-up from Kilgrave, one figure of speech, and that poor woman scrubbed tile floor until blood from her fingertips stained the grout.  
  
“Do you think I should get a job?” Kilgrave asked. “Become a regular nine-to-fiver?”  
  
Jessica snorted. The suggestion was hilarious. “You could never hold down a job.”  
  
“Yeah, but—” he jumped onto the bed— “I want to do all the boring family stuff. I want to be the working husband and father, the provider who comes home from a long day at work to a cocktail already prepared by the little lady. And then while I drink it and unwind, I get a foot massage.” He wiggled his socked toes at her. Jessica pushed his foot away.  
  
“We’re not married.” She had to repeat herself too often. “And what the fuck sort of job could you even do? You have absolutely no practical skills.”  
  
“Well...” He thought about it. “Your charming bitch of a friend, Jeri, she really made me think I could toss my hat into the ring of being a lawyer.” His grin grew wider the more he considered it. “Wear my nice suits to work every day. Have a desk to put your lovely picture on. Speak in a room where all the attention’s on yours truly. Be a real cog in the justice machine, make you proud.” He nudged her leg with his foot and Jessica pushed it away again. “Though I think I’d much rather be a prosecutor. I mean,” he laughed, “how easy would that be? Throw the miserable bastard up on the stand. ‘Tell us the truth, in your own words, did you do it?’ They confess and incriminate themselves. Case over. Bang the little... hammer gavel... thing.” He clapped his hands and washed them of his first successful case.  
  
“Hey, genius,” Jessica pointed out, “you know that would only work if they were actually guilty?”  
  
Kilgrave had not thought of that. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’ll figure something out. Influence the jury or—”  
  
“No,” Jessica refused, “you cannot send innocent people to prison.”  
  
He groaned. “You tie my hands, Miss Jones. You tie my hands.”  
  
“Then don’t be a damn lawyer,” she told him. “It’s about justice, not the statistics on your win rate.”  
  
“Would you like it—” he laid on his side and propped his head up to look at her fondly— “if I lost the innocent cases?”  
  
“You wouldn’t do it because it’s the right thing.” Jessica folded a polo shirt and tossed it haphazardly in the direction of Kilgrave’s pile.  
  
“God no,” he agreed. “I’d do it to make you happy. Justice is what you want. As you have told me time and time again,” he took her hand off a shirt to hold in his own, “I have no moral compass. Or if I do, the bloody needle’s always spinning around. I need you to be my magnetic due north.”   
  
It was not the responsibility Jessica wanted, but duty was never supposed to be enjoyable. “Do whatever the hell you want.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll do whatever you tell me,” Kilgrave said. “You may be my prisoner, but I’m your slave.”  
  
The claim was laughable. Either Kilgrave knew how incorrect it was and wanted to bicker over it or he truly was ignorant to how many orders he gave in a day. Jessica knew she could sit there and argue or she could get up and leave.  
  
She got off the bed. “I’ll finish these later.”  
  
“No, no, no. Don’t go.” She stopped. “Come here.” Jessica’s feet moved her closer. “Come here,” he said again. “Come on back. Lay with me on top of all these soft warm clothes.” Jessica laid down beside him. They breathed the same air. Kilgrave caressed her cheek with his fingertips and pushed her hair behind her ear. It was kind and tender, everything he thought he was. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I always think I might get tired of it, but I wake up every morning so... delighted, so blessed to see your face. So beautiful.” He kissed her. “Especially now that you’ve finally lost the last of that pregnancy weight.”  
  
“God,” Jessica pushed him away, “you’re a prick.”  
  
“Oh, lighten up. It was just a joke.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t.”  
  
“Hey, hey. Look at me. Look at me, Jessica.” She stared directly into his face. “I love you no matter what,” he said. “If our little falling out a year ago couldn’t stop it, nothing ever will.” Jessica tried to close her eyes or look away. “We are meant to be together, you and I. We’re inevitable.” Jessica blinked as long and as often as she could, but she was only free to close her eyes when a new order superseded the first. Kilgrave pulled her close up against his body. Over her shoulder and in the softest, most gentle voice, he spoke. “Jessica, I... I do love you.” He thought he meant it. Maybe he did, but that idea was too outrageous to accept with flattery. If Kilgrave loved, he did not love correctly. He could not. And even his own version of it was horrifying. “I love you,” he said again, as if repetition would make it true. “You have to believe— No.” He stopped himself before it came out like an order. “I want for you to believe me, and I’ll keep trying until you do.” Kilgrave did not understand how terrifying that statement was.  
  
“I don’t believe you,” Jessica said. “If you really loved me, you’d let me go.”  
  
“I can’t,” he denied. He petted the back of her head, twirling black hair between his fingers. “I just can’t. We need you, Jessica. Why can you not understand that?”  
  
“Because I didn’t want this,” Jessica said. “I never... _asked_  for this. Pretending to want it is something _I_  can’t do.” She could not and did not, not unless he made her fake it.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kilgrave murmured. “We should have discussed it more first. That was my mistake. You’re right.” He missed her entire point. “It’s just that... well, I was certain at least. I knew I wanted it.” He kissed the top of her head once and then again. “I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else,” he said. “The thought never even occurred to me. Before you, I never wanted to be part of a family again. You brought that out in me. You make me feel... normal, Jessica. You make me yearn for normal things. When I’m with you, I’m not the monster my parents made me. I’m just a man, all exposed with a bare, beating heart and simple desires. Do you understand my feelings?”  
  
Jessica nodded, rubbing her chin on his shoulder. She understood. That did not make it any less demented.  
  
“Oh,” Kilgrave sighed with relief, “oh, good. And do you,” he hesitantly asked, “do you feel the same? Do you... love me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
It was interesting how an exhale of breath could sound like a frustrated growl. Kilgrave regularly put himself out there for Jessica, made himself vulnerable, but he had not gained an inch with her. She knew what his thoughts looked like, knew that Kilgrave told himself it had only been a year. He told himself it had already been a year, a year with no progress. Oftentimes, he became impatient. “Tell me you love me.”  
  
“I love you.” He could put words in Jessica’s mouth all he wanted. That did not make them true. And saying them hurt him worse than her.  
  
“And our child? Say it.”  
  
“I love our baby.”  
  
Kilgrave held Jessica’s face in his hands and kissed her. “You’ll say them on your own one day.” He kissed her. “I know you will.”  
  
He was patient enough for both of them.  
  
+  
  
Kilgrave covered his ears as he paced around the living room. “God, I hate the crying,” he bemoaned. “Make him stop already.”  
  
“I’m trying!” Jessica yelled back, escalating the volume of the situation to match her frustration. She was tired, upset, and angry. She bounced the wailing infant against her, but as he screamed over her shoulder, she had no idea what he wanted or what was wrong. She was exhausted trying to please Kilgrave’s miserable son. “I hate this goddamn whining brat. I hate him. I hate you. I hate this entire... shitty situation.” She hated her life.  
  
Kilgrave came towards her with open palms extended, as if approaching a wild dog or snarling panther he intended to calm. “You don’t mean that.”  
  
Order or no order, Jessica did not know the truth behind how she felt. It was all so much. The cooking, the cleaning, the baby waking her up before dawn, Kilgrave still demanding companionship, the thick fog ever-present in her brain. It was too much. “I’m so tired,” she whispered.  
  
“Are you now?” he asked. “You never complain.”  
  
Jessica complained daily. Kilgrave never listened. He heard what he wanted from her. It was easier that way. And yet, still, Jessica took cautions against mentioning any grievances he might seek to remedy. “I don’t want you hiring new servants.” Kilgrave called them employees, but she knew what they were.  
  
“Even though it would make your life exponentially more carefree?” Jessica shook her head no. “You never appreciate anything I do for you.” That much was true. A demand made to strangers was not effort demonstrated, and Jessica would never treat it as such.  
  
The baby did not stop crying. He would not stop crying, and Jessica thought with haunting ideation that if she could, she would drop him and walk away forever. It was an untrue, intrusive thought, but it was a thought. “I’m just so goddamn tired.”  
  
“Fine. Give him here.” Kilgrave held out his hands. “Come on.” With confusion and obedience, Jessica placed the screaming child in his arms. Kilgrave turned him around so weakly kicking feet tapped against his chest. He supported the back of the baby’s head and looked into his scrunched up eyes. “All right, stop that now,” he commanded. “Stop crying.” Kilgrave waited in anticipation and sighed at the end of nothing. “Well, that was worth a shot. Guess we’ll have to wait until the little bastard understands English.” Jessica reached for the baby, prepared to take him back, but Kilgrave turned away from her. “No, you go on,” he permitted. “Get some rest. Take a nap. I’ll watch the little one. We’ll bond. It’ll be fun. Go,” he ordered once more.  
  
“Just... be careful,” she said, but no matter what, she did not feel good about leaving them alone. She still had to. She had to go take a nap. “He’s a fragile little shit.”  
  
Jessica turned away and walked from the room. All the way up the stairs, she could hear cool, collected promises issuing out among crying.  
  
“Yes,” Kilgrave cooed. “Just some father/son bonding. Though you are a bore right now, aren’t you?” The cries shifted as Kilgrave rocked the baby. “Not to worry. I’m sure you’ll grow up quick. Then we can do some actual bonding, everything my shut-in scientist father never did with me. Do you think you’ll like going to a rugby game? Oh, I know you will, of course, but it’d be nice if I didn’t have to make you. It’ll be fun. I’ll get us a box to watch it from. And you know what else?”  
  
Jessica closed the door before she had to hear any more. As she laid in bed, before she fell asleep, she cried over the fate of an innocent child who would never control his own mind or thoughts. As soon as he could understand speech, free will would be taken from him. Personality and interests would be projected onto him, programmed into him. He would be whatever Kilgrave wanted or found most convenient. It was the life of a zombie, a mindless thing, and he would never know of anything more.  
  
Jessica was nobody’s hero. And she was damn sure not a good mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated, do you understand what I would pay to watch prosecutor Kilgrave versus defense attorney Matt Murdock? Do you?
> 
> Bonus points if Matt’s immune to his mind control for some reason. I can’t think of why he would be, but...


	9. Fly Away

“I’ll be gone for a few hours,” Kilgrave said as he adjusted the jacket of his suit. “Time to see if someone will let me be an attorney without a single year of law school under my belt. I like my odds.” He winked. “Be a good mother for me, darling.”

Be a good mother.

Sometimes, there was a boundary to push. Jessica could find scraps of free will so long as it did not contradict what Kilgrave said.

Be a good mother.

She obeyed her order.

When Kilgrave returned, the house was silent.

“Honey, I’m home!”

He walked about the living room, kicking off his shoes and dropping his jacket over a chair for Jessica to pick up later. “Guess who already got his first big case.” She did not answer the rhetorical question. “We’ll have to find another nanny so you can watch me in court. You’ll love it. This woman is as guilty as sin itself.”

Jessica sat in the middle of the sofa, staring at the ornate coffee table. A kiss was placed on her cheek.

“Junior asleep?”

“I don’t know,” Jessica answered.

“You don’t know?” Kilgrave paused. “Well, when was the last time you checked on him?”

“Two hours ago.”

“Go look in on him then.”

Jessica’s legs twitched, wanting to stand, but she had no goal to pursue. “I can’t.”

With deep, dooming steps, Kilgrave walked around the sofa and stood in front of her. “Look at me.” She did. She looked directly into his eyes, and he knew something was wrong. Tears always had a reason behind them. “Why can’t you?” His voice stretched thin with dwindling patience.

“Because I don’t...” Tears tickled as they dropped from her eyes and ran down her cheek. “I don’t _know_  where he is.”

Kilgrave’s composure vanished. “What did you do?” Jessica did not answer. “Tell me what you did!” he screamed. “You tell me right this second, Jessica!”

“I took a cab!” she exclaimed. She did not plan a destination. “I told him to just... drive. I closed my eyes.” They rode aimlessly with Phillip held tightly in her arms. Jessica did not count the time. She did not observe turns, barely registered stops and traffic. “We pulled into an alley.” Only then, within the confines of nondescript brick walls, did Jessica open her eyes. “I told the cabbie to call a cop. When one finally got there, I gave him the baby and answered as few questions as possible.” Jessica sniffed. She wiped her eyes and nose. “I took the cab back here with my eyes closed. I told him to take a different route, and I didn’t look at how much the fare cost. I gave him two hundred and told him to keep the change.” Kilgrave’s fury burned and made the room’s air warm and stuffy. “I don’t know how far away it was,” she told him. “I don’t know where it was. I don’t know what... precinct’s jurisdiction we were in.” Jessica’s voluntary ignorance was her greatest asset. “I don’t know where he is or who has him.”

Kilgrave yelled. It was loud and echoed around the townhouse and through its walls. It was a liberated shout without concern of consequence. Any neighbor who complained would be ordered away— at the very least. Beneath his rage and by his hand, ornate bowls of glass went flying into the wall and shattered. Candles were broken apart and thrown. A hand went around Jessica’s neck and squeezed. She reached up to pry him off. “No.” Her hands returned to her lap. She could not breathe. “You and I,” Kilgrave growled, “are going to have a very long talk when I get back.” He released her and stood up straight. His hair and clothes were adjusted to make him look presentable again. “You’ve been a terrible mother, Jessica,” Kilgrave stated. “It had better not take me long to find him, but in case it does...” He paused to consider her punishment. He loved her body so much that there were not many tortures he could inflict upon her physically— nothing permanent anyway. “For every half-hour that I’m away, I want you to rip out one of your fingernails.” Jessica closed her eyes, dreading her inevitable future. “If I take longer than five hours, you’re to move on to your toes. Is that clear?”

Jessica nodded. She got up to find pliers so she might comply more easily with the command. But before she left, she begged, “Please just... just leave him alone, okay? You have me. You have... me. Isn’t that enough?” Kilgrave came towards her. She flinched as he put his hand at her scalp and brushed through to the ends of her hair. He twirled it around his fingers. Jessica closed her eyes. “Please.”

“You’re enough,” he said. Anger melted beneath unhealthy affection. “You’re enough.” Kilgrave held her and kissed the hair lying against her cheek. “Don’t tell me you did all of this because you’re jealous of the baby.” For two reasons, she could not. “Sorry, sorry,” he realized. “Poor phrasing on my part.” He petted her back with a gentle hand, up and down. “Of course you’re enough. But we’re a family, Jessica. A boy needs his parents. He’ll be lost without us, scared, alone.” Kilgrave spoke from his own experiences, forcing them onto a child who would be better off far, far away from them and their abhorrent dysfunction. “Everything will be all right,” he promised, genuinely believing his own lie. “You’ll see.” He pulled away and kissed her again. “I love you, Jessica.” He believed all his lies. “I’m going to make us whole again. I’ll get him back. Here, here.” Kilgrave took her hand and led her back to the sofa. “It’s all right. Sit. It’s all right. No messy fingernail business. None of that. You just sit tight and wait for me to get back.” It was a punishment he did not even realize. He would be away for hours and hours. Jessica could not move. “I’ll get him.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll get him.”

He left.

Kilgrave was gone for hours. Jessica could not get up but knew from watching the clock on the wall that she would have lost seven fingernails if his mood had not swung back to what he called love.

The clock ticked in their unnecessarily large house. She would have lost two toenails.

Jessica was a good mother. She used her imposed free time telling herself that over and over. The only decision she regretted was not finding a more untraceable method. Kilgrave would recover the baby. Jessica did her best, pushed the boundaries of submission as far as she could, but she would lose. If Kilgrave kept speaking his maternal command, however, Jessica knew she would try and try again.

She would be a good mother to her child. Perhaps not in any of the small, expected ways (tenderness, silliness, singing, or storytelling), but where it mattered most, Jessica was a good mother.

And Kilgrave?

“Look who I found.”

Kilgrave was a horrible father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I could write a happy ending to save my life.
> 
> Horrible dark AU of my own fic where Jessica deafens the baby to save it from Kilgrave’s orders. I think she’ll call that Plan Z. In such a situation and given Kilgrave’s obsession with things being perfect (example, demanding two kidneys to be made whole), he might lose interest in the child after that. Despicable but possibly true.
> 
> That’s all, folks. This fic was supposed to be a brief oneshot but I kept thinking of dialogue I wanted to include. Like I always do. Done now though. I don’t wanna write anymore. All I want to do is slowly impregnate all of the Defenders. Haha. (Except Luke. I just... can’t make that one happen. Too big and manly, and I don’t think I ship him with any male characters. I will settle for and be satisfied with the joke he made in canon when Claire gave him an ultrasound.) Yes, by the way, that does mean I have an Iron Fist one in mind. Maybe I will finish it one day.
> 
> So that’s the end of my Jessica Jones fic. PLEASE let me know what you think. I love comments, and I want to know your thoughts on it.


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